


triste

by Elisye



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen, also wheee tree of savior fanfic what a freaking day, original work more like the category doesn't exist so this is just a placeholder fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-04
Updated: 2016-03-04
Packaged: 2018-05-24 17:50:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6161565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elisye/pseuds/Elisye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Klaipeda, in all its gloom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	triste

**Author's Note:**

> please listen to tree of savior's [beautiful soundtrack](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c7bCAnhbh-M)

There is quiet, and there is silence.

Klaipeda was a quiet place, once -

(When it was modest and quaint, filled with the screeches of coal-filled carts along railroads and grinning faces - it's hard to see even a vague flicker of the same any more. Who knew illusions could be so hard to conjure, after all?)

Nowadays, it's filled with the sounds of heavy boots and breathy sighs, the daylight painted with a faint tinge of grey no matter the time or the weather. (In the beginning, when hope outweighed trepidation, these sounds were enough - it implied enough, and with vivid imagination, painted busy streets and white-noise chatter. But all it takes is a look and the dream falls apart from its seams.)

In that way, it isn't quiet. It grew, in the past few years - from a simple town, overlooked very often, to a sprawling city with wide districts. But even so, despite its size and its people, the city is coldly silent.

(The roads are made from stone, like important capital cities. The people filling its niches are wrapped in worn brown cloth and leather, marking them as weary travelers who gave up when they couldn't see red stars in the sky any more. The city is so big, so wonderful even, but everyone is much too sad to give life to its sky-rising structures. It's simply very hard to hold onto hope, as the days and the years have passed.) 

But amidst even the quiet and the silence, there can be sound.

(Their eyes glimmer in different colors, brown green blue black - but they all sparkle with a stray light shaped like a star, and murmur, ever so softly; their eyes are simply _fated_.)

At some point in time, Klaipeda is filled with noise over silence. The streets are filled with the sounds of footsteps, small and big alike, and sighs tucked in-between words and hushed thoughts. But these people, as they transform themselves from a few people to a great mass, wear the mantles of destiny upon their shoulders, proclaiming so very loudly each - how they will write the unknown future with each step and move. (They aren't gods or goddesses, just people, all of different lives and views, but they seem to be chosen people nonetheless - never so boldly, so certain, have such faces been seen, wholeheartedly believing they can triumph over despair when it is already deeply entrenched.)

People gather, in the city. People rise from their seats and beds, and look out their glazed windows, seeing the sunlight tinged in some color other than grey.

Shopkeepers begin to open their creaky doors again, and their families sweep the entrances dutifully. Plants are kept in pretty pots, watered, cared for. Someone buys a fresh new dress, and someone else wears one that they stopped wearing, since it felt much too cheerfully oppressive before. It's not an easy thing, for an entire city and its residents to wake up - there are days where even with all the sound and noise, the world is utterly monochrome, but still. People struggle, people try. That is how life is meant to be, regardless of the circumstances. 

Klaipeda, in all its gloom, hums with bright promises.

And Laima, in the past, thinks that is enough promise for the distant future.


End file.
